


A Mimosa, Please

by shinineko1



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-07
Updated: 2012-03-07
Packaged: 2017-11-01 14:22:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/357815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinineko1/pseuds/shinineko1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris wearing a bartender suit. Another prompt <3</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Mimosa, Please

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Medi](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Medi).



It was a hole in the ground, nothing overly special. Just a little hole in the wall bar with light jazz music playing in the background. The lighting was dim and there was a stage over on one side ofthe room with a baby grand on it that usually had one or two different people to play it for a night. Tables were scattered around an open floor right next to the stage, both for dancing when the singers felt ambitious about their tunes, or for one fo them to saunter forward and interact with their small audience.

But the ambient lighting wasn't why he came here. Nor was it the music. It wasn't why he lingered over one drink for the entire night at the bar. The diverse races of clientele didn't even make him stop and blink anymore. Kirkwall had been a different sort of city, where everyone converged. From the Qunari who didn't talk to anyone but made great businessmen, to the elves that were beautiful no matter how old they got, the humans that just seemed to be there (a race that he was a part of), down to the dwarves, whose engineering and technological skills left most other races in the dust. They were all in the city, and indeed, there was a Qunari at the bar, a dwarf dancing by himself, elves and humans sitting at a table together.

Shaking his head a little to get himself out of his musings, he made his way over to his usual spot at the bar, lifting his eyes to see his real reason for being there. And there he was, drying a glass and watching the show that was being put on. He didn't care about being served right away anyway; all he wanted to do was just stare at him for awhile.

He started low, spotting the black slacks that most people never saw as he moved behind the bar. They clung to his hips, fastened by a belt that probably didn't really need to be there. Oh how he would like to run his hand along that hip line. Then, tucked in, there was the solid white shirt, the top three buttons undone, and the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. There was the curious part. Sliding along that bronzed skin from under the shirt were white, fanciful lines. They traced over his arm and wrist, along his hands, right to the nailbeds, and even over the palms. He'd just love to run his tongue along them once, really, he would.

Shaking his head just the faintest bit, he lifted his eyes again, idly licking his lips as he focused on the collar. There were more lines there, going up either side of his neck and ending below his ears, then two that ended at his lower lip. Ah Maker, those lips were sinful. Nice and full and soft looking, and he really did wish he could taste them, just once.

Letting his eyes slide to the side, he was drawn to the long, pointed ears. Earrings lined the elongated shell, with a chain connecting one near the tip and one in the middle, and a jewel dangling from the one in the front. And of course, lingering at his ears made him look to that shaggily cut hair. Snowy white. And he knew the young man was in his twenties. He'd often caught himself wondering if it was as soft as it looked.

Pulling his attention downward again, he paused on his face. Slim, of course, and in the middle, a straight, almost aristocratic nose for an elf. Framed on either side by high cheekbones. Dark, thick brows hung over large green eyes that looked more like liquid than anything else.

Eyes that were staring at him. There was a distinctly amused smile on that mouth he'd been admiring not even very long ago. And it still made his cheeks warm up as he sat up from his slouch and coughed into his hand to try and hide his embarrassment at being caught, again. 

The elf turned away from him then, and he breathed a small sigh of relief for the slight reprieve. Soon enough, he was staring again as he came back, a familiar orange drink in his hand.

"I caught you again," That rough, velvety voice! Another thing he couldn't get enough of. It was like getting a massage on a private island that quickly turned kinky!

"Ah...you did, didn't you, Fenris?" He was still embarrassed, but smiling.

"Perhaps...I should wear this home tonight, and you can practice removing it from me, Garrett." 

He couldn't reply. Not even as those slim fingers slid around the back of his neck to draw him in over the bar. Not as his lips were covered with soft, full ones that tasted of mint. Not even as he was let go and Fenris moved away to take care of other customers.

Shaking his head a little, he started watching him again, thumb idly running over the inside of his ring finger on his left hand. Fenris could cater to them all he wanted. That simple gold band that rested on the elf's finger in the exact same spot meant that they could have him all they wanted until his shift was over. Then he was his when he got home. And if he truly did wear that outfit, he might not be in for the next shift.


End file.
